Always
by Nanners0474
Summary: V is grieving the loss of Jane. The story is better than this summary. Please give this oneshot a chance!


**Disclaimer: I do not own any characters. They belong to J. R. Ward.

*Author's Note: It has been a long while since I have offered up a fic. I hope you my little one-shot inspired by the Black Dagger Brotherhood series. Please review. Thanks, Nanners.

**Always**

It had been years since Jane had faded away. When she had first been returned to him he knew it was too good to be true. But there she had been, oddly solid and whole although she was a ghost. Those first years with her as his ghostly mate were glorious. But like with all things time works it's own brand of magic and what was once begins to change.

It didn't happen overnight and there sure as shit hadn't been any big neon sign pointing to one spot in their timeline saying, "Pause here. Look closer". Nope, no neon sign but little subtle overlooked signs everywhere.

One such sign was that she spent more and more time with the dying. He thought it was the scientist in her. The greatest unanswerable question…"What happens when we die?" As a doctor faced with mortality every day, why wouldn't she be called by death? Of course, she had also faced death herself. He had no reason to question why she would be drawn to it.

But that wasn't it. Not really. Not solely. It wasn't the process of dying that drew her. It was what happens once the dying was done and life was no more. What happened next? That's what drew her. That's what called to her on a very personal level. She had known some of the answer but not the whole of it. It was the whole that beckoned to her. It was heaven calling it's lost child home. In the beginning her choice had been to stay. To stay with him. But…

Sign number two was not on her end but on his. He was also called by something outside of "them". He knew in his heart of hearts he always would be. In fact, what drew him to Jane was that she reminded him of that other, that outside factor. The one in his heart that he could not claim…but he could claim Jane. She carried the traits. She was similar in so many ways that he could lose himself in her and still have a part of what could never truly be his…Oh, but he had wanted. Had. Did. Would. Always.

Jane being Jane saw it. He could push it down but she was too wise, too knowing. He knew it had to have eaten at her somewhere deep inside. As understanding and as open as she was Jane was still a woman after all. A woman in love with a man who could love her back…but only second to one other…and that other was always there. Always in their faces. Not purposefully but yes, always there.

He would feel her eyes on them when they were in a room together. Taking in the playful banter, the jokes, the arm punches, the camaraderie, the bond. But that wasn't only what Jane's shrewd eyes would see. No, his Jane caught the looks, the slight brushes, the possessive tone. All one sided. All on his part alone.

He tried his damnedest to quell it. Knew it made no sense. What he craved wasn't his to crave. Jane was. He wanted her. Loved her. Yet, behind it all he still wanted what he could never have. Try as he might he just couldn't quiet that noise. At oddest moments it would fill him like a stormy ocean overwhelming a placid cove. And he would want…again and again. Always.

He squashed it down in his soul. Let it fester and prayed for it to die. Then he ignored it. But she saw it; saw it all. His Jane. He loved her beyond death and it just wasn't enough. Not when some small hidden denied part of him longed for the unattainable.

And it was unattainable even though it was forever at his fingertips. Right there, a glance, a shoulder brush, a bedroom away.

And then there were those times, those tantalizing times when not only was the unattainable so very close, it was right there in his goddamn arms. Skin to skin, chest to chest. Face in that neck, breathing that scent, hands soothing down that back as the unattainable shuddered and sighed against him. God, how could she not see it? How could she not look upon them and know. It _must_ have been written on his face, the longing, the desire, the fucking hunger. It would take all he had not to run his fangs along that neck, not to bite, to keep his hands on that strong back and not run them down to that perfect ass. To not grid his hips against that sweet spot. Jesus. It nearly killed him each time but he never turned away. Couldn't. Not because they were bound, destroyer to savior, friend to friend, brother to brother. No, he never turned away because as much as those brief moments were torturous teases he relished them. Those moments were all he had of the unattainable and so he would take them, claim them. Always.

So, when she began sitting quietly looking out at the night stars for long stretches of time he didn't look too closely. And when her insubstantial form grew lighter and softer until she could almost be beside him without him knowing he disregarded it. More signs all ignored.

Ignored until she sat him down and in that logical, firm way of hers explained it all. He should not have been surprised but he was. He was surprised and devastated.

Selfishly he pleaded, "Don't go. I need you."

Crystal tears leaked down her cheeks but she held firm. "It's time I went home. It's calling to me." She shook her head. There was just no way to explain death to the living. "My time here with you has been a gift but it was always borrowed time. As much as we tried to deny it or justify my being here I was never meant to stay. Not forever."

"But why? Why now?"

She looked at him then. "Can you not see it?" She asked.

"See what?"

"Me. My light is fading. And…" She paused, eyes calm and knowing. "You…Him."

He shook his head, not willing to see what she was pointing out, hear what she was saying.

"Look closer," she said.

"I love only you."

"You love me. Yes," she nodded, tears beautiful upon her lashes, "but not only me. Never only me." She took his hands in hers. They were cool, like water, and felt like mist. He squeezed her fingers trying to find more of a hold but like mist and water she was slipping away both in spirit and in form. "He's always been in your heart…Always."

He shook his head again in denial but could not meet her eyes.

"I knew it from the start and I know it now," she continued, her words soft and misty as the rest of her. "Some part of you will always be his. I can live with that because it is part of you. But I cannot compete. I never wanted to so I never tried. I just accepted it because it was part of you…and I love every part of you."

"There is only you."

She again shook her head, smiling at his denial. "That is not why I am leaving, though. I would stay and fight the battle of him forever if I could…and I would win because I have you and he does not. He cannot and I can."

He smiled at this. Such a Jane thing to say.

A misty hand caressed his cheek, traced the lines of the tattoo on his temple. Her eyes took in every bit of his face, memorizing every nuance. "You have loved me so well. I could never have hoped for such a love but it is time for me to go. I'm taking that love with me. That part of you is mine, I claim it, and I keep it. Always"

He pleaded over and over but she faded slowly before his eyes, crying quiet tears and smiling softly.

It took years to heal from the loss. Everything quieted during that time. He was a shadow without her. But like with all things time works it's own brand of magic and what was once begins to change.

The one constant was the friend he was sure he would have died without. The friend he was bound to deep in his soul. When he cried Butch was there with a shoulder. When he screamed in his sleep Butch woke him. When he was lost Butch steered the way.

In a while he was able to function. Soon enough he breathed without his chest hurting. Time eased the pain into a dull ache and then into a muted pierce that stung only once in a while. It took years but most days he could say that he finally felt normal again.

He missed her still. Always would. Now the grief was not as poisonous and not as crippling. But there were times…

He sat in The Pit alone with the TV running as background noise. He mind fluttered back to those first days when she was newly his. God, the love they had shared. She had healed him and in more ways than one. He had been grieving then too. Grieving the loss of Butch to Marissa, grieving what could never be. Then there she was, like a gift. And he snatched her up like she was a life preserver and he was drowning. The savior's savior.

He felt himself sinking into the haunting melancholy of time gone by. He couldn't shake it. Even years later it would sneak up and claim him out of the blue. There was nothing to do but to let it slide over him and wait for the feeling to subside once more.

Just when he was resigned to his fate the door opened and in strolled the one person who could fix it all just by being.

"Get up, you lazy dog. We've got biznass to handle." Butch said, clipping a gun into its holster under his arm. When he didn't move and just sat staring at his friend Butch looked up from what he was doing. A look of worry and understanding crossed his face. Silently he watched as the male came and crouched before him. Butch bounced twice on his haunches before settling with his elbows on his knees.

"What's doin', man?" He knew Butch already knew so he just shook his head. There was a long pause as they both looked at each other, silently communicating, one with sadness, the other concern.

"She's always with you." Butch said finally, his rough voice softened with caring.

"I know."

"Don't sink into it this time…She wouldn't want that, V." His voice was firmer, hazel eyes growing fierce as he stood up straight. Tall with broad shoulders squared Butch held out his hand. "Fight through it."

He sat staring up at his best friend, eyes traveling the life-hardened face, the strength in his shoulders and arms. Finally, he reached out and slapped his hand into Butch's. He was hauled to his feet with a swift tug bringing his body up against his friend's. That slow burn that was always there just under his skin heated slightly, surprising him. It had been dormant during his grieving. He looked into hazel eyes that looked back with a mixture of pride and concern. The lopsided smile that quirked the corner of Butch's mouth had him glancing at his lips before looking away.

"Come on. Get your ass ready," the male said. "Let's go kill some Lessers." Butch gave him a slap on the back before stepping back, still looking closely at his face.

"Yeah, let me get ready," he said, forcing a smile.

After one more slap on the back and an "I'll meet you downstairs" the male headed out. He watched as Butch paused by the door. He took in the broad back that narrowed into a lean waist and hips. Butch turned his head slightly so he could look back over his shoulder.

"You're doing alright, vampire," Butch's gravelly voice was rougher than usual and filled with compassion. "You know that, right? You know you're doing just fine, right?"

He looked at his friend and thought, 'Doing all right with what? Losing my shellan or losing you?' Instead he said, "Yeah, cop…I know."

With that Butch left the room. Vishous let his shoulder's slump. She had always been right, his Jane. A part of him would always belong to Butch.

Always.


End file.
